


Or Am I A Fool? Who Sits Alone, Talking to the Moon

by Sweetlittlelwt



Series: Read To Me, Sweetheart [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hardships, I LOVE DYING AND BEING DEAD, I am such an emotional writer, I apologize in advance, Louis' thoughts, M/M, but I put a lot of love and thought into this book, cheers to praying this book is a lot better than my tagging skills lmfao, skinny love, so I hope you can appreciate that, their mothers are depicted as unaccepting in this book, this is pretty sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7008694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetlittlelwt/pseuds/Sweetlittlelwt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On nights like these, Louis is victim to the moon's light -- left wide away to revisit old memories and old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Am I A Fool? Who Sits Alone, Talking to the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I am aware of the HORRENDOUS first versions that was this little one shot, and I deeply apologize to anyone who’s previously read this. I cringed so hard reading through it, however, I knew it was worth saving. So, I have edited it and decided to re-post this as a story apart of my serious, Read to Me, Sweetheart. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks x.
> 
> Also, a three songs that greatly inspired this fic were   
> Heal - by Tom Odell  
> Til the sun comes up - Gavin James  
> Not About Angels - Birdy
> 
> The title comes from Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars
> 
> Come say hi!  
> Tumblr: sweetlittlelwt  
> Twitter: sweetlittlelwt

Lonely boys living in lonely worlds, we all sleep under the same stars so why should my moon be any different than yours?

It's the works of the universe, playing on our minds and reaching into the depths of our souls to find our purpose. Our reason to be here and our reason for doing everything it is that we do. Funny how we all believe in fate, yet we still challenge it. We still try to change it, fight it and prove it wrong; and that, is what makes us extraordinary.

It's the stars that give us hope to be something more than a passing face along the street, but to be remembered for something great. It's the ones who take the path less taken who truly find the meaning of everything, going to extreme lengths to find the answer to everything; But sometimes... not knowing is what's best. Believe in things you can't see, because the eye can be deceiving. They say, you can't see God, but you can see his blessings happening every time you open your eyes, and your lungs are granted the permission to breath, your legs the right to walk, your mind the will to wander and think.

Happiness is what we are entitled to, and what we strive for. The moon gives me that happiness, because when everyone else is sleeping - it's the only thing there for me. The only thing that won't look down upon me with disapproving eyes and won't run away and leave me to my misguided thoughts.

When death is your only wish, you can't find the joys of living to do something great. Having only the late hours of night is reason enough to keep my lungs breathing, my heart beating and my mind wandering. Sometimes I want to forget, then sometimes, I remember that we need to remember. We don't get moments back, we don't get the time we spend alone and the time we spend sad back. Sadly we don't get hundreds of years to really think of how exactly were are supposed to live, what we are supposed to believe.  
I choose to believe in fate. I choose to believe in challenging fate and choosing my path, but if fate already knows that - then what existence really rests in me? What control do I have over my life? Am I really even here, or just floating in the unknown of the physical presence that links me to the earth...

I just couldn't understand how in a world where we share so much as, the ground beneath our feet, the sun that gave us life and the moon that pulled the tides - how I could be so different. How breathing the air around anyone else was any different than breathing the air in my own home, or halfway around the world. How changing in the locker room could be so terrifying if we all shared the same type of body. How eating in the cafeteria could be so lonely, when we all shared the same stories. Why does the universe find pleasure in choosing certain people to be superior to others, and choosing the others to sit around and gawk in their presence. Or to leave the ones like me alone in the back, eyes focused on my plate as I tried not to cry. 

It just didn't seem fair.

I was different, so I chose not to be. They say you can choose, correct? Your preference is a choice? So I choose not to be different anymore.

It's nights like these when I can't sleep, that I find myself looking out the window; staring at the consistent light, the only light left in my dark and clouded mind. The mind that has had too much free time from being forgotten and pushed to the side. It's always times like these when I wish my mother would just be understanding, and my father would've stayed. Maybe he would've held me, and told me he loved his little boy; and maybe I would've been normal. Maybe I would've been daddy's little champ, and maybe my mother would look at me with love brimming in her eyes instead of tears of disgust.

"What does normal even mean!" I sighed, lacking the enthusiasm that I craved. "Should it mean that I am any different because I don't like the same things? Why are your likes superior to mine?"

It was all too much to handle, and the moon was the only thing that could put my screaming mind to ease. I never understood why, but maybe as I went hours talking to the moon, just maybe someone out there was listening; and talking back. It was silly to believe such things, but I was always silly to believe I was normal.  
It was all the memories that flooded in with the moon's presence, that the sun had done a good job of hiding from the brightness of the smile I forced, and the glimmer of my dull blue iris' just moments from spilling over tears. From my dry and cracked pink lips, that looked somewhat okay in the sun's light. I could pretend I was happy, as if it was second nature.

I didn't understand why I had to pretend, when in all honesty. I knew that no one really cared. Not my mother, not my father and certainly not my peers. My mind had so much to dwell on as I went further through my timeline of raging thoughts, back to the summer that changed everything.

Eighth grade year, my best year of school. It wasn't because I had an amazing group of friends by the name of Sarah, Annabelle, Ashley and Liam; but because I had Harry Styles.  
Harry and I had been friends since second grade, where we met in Mrs. Bailey's music class. We were both transfers from the UK, so we had a lot in common already, from our pubescent faces to our squeaky accented voices. We both had a liking towards the drums, and insisted on learning how to play together. I remembered how Mrs. Bailey's room always smelled of whiteboard markers, fruity perfume and peanut butter and jelly sandwich and apples - which we would share for snack. Mrs.Bailey's room was always decorated with music symbols that we would have to recite and the kids were always so energetic. The light blue painted walls of the second grade classroom always made it feel welcoming and there was never a dull moment in that class.

We became best friends over the years, all the way up until seventh grade. We would go to the movies, we would celebrate every event and holiday together; talk about girls. We were inseparable - but here's the thing about the universe. It likes to shake things up and see how much people can handle before they've hit their limits. Before they break.  
Harry's mother was going through a hard time at the moment. She couldn't afford the house they were living in any longer, and even with my mom's help, they still couldn't maintain a life there anymore. So they moved to the sunshine state; Florida.

Harry came to school crying on the last day, and I ran to his side. We talked about everything that day. Every last thing we could think of. Harry was leaving in a week, and since he had to pack - we wouldn't be able to hang out... we wouldn't get a proper goodbye, so we had to make due with this moment.

This was our last goodbye...

I could clearly remember the last conversation Harry and I ever had. I could remember the tears running down my cheeks, and chaos inside my head - and how I've always referred to that day, as the worst and best day of my life.

"So this is goodbye?" I cried, not bothering to wipe my crystal tears as they stained my tan colored cheeks. There was no point, they would only keep flowing - every emotion seeping out, leaving the universe to do whatever it wanted with it. It was already taking him, and everything with it, so no matter. 

"I guess goodbyes are the only good things we get." Harry sniffled. His curly chocolate colored hair was blowing in the early summers heated breeze. We sat under the tree behind the school, looked up at the blinding sun and cried until we were all cried out.

"This can't be forever, right?" I asked, the dried remains of my tears staining my pink cheeks. I wanted to be strong, at least for him... but I couldn't.  
"It won't be." He assured with a hiccup, but I could tell he wasn't certain. How could he be? "I won't replace you." He promised.

"How could I replace you?" We both shared a small, heartbreaking laugh - the only emotion left to play on. I knew I couldn't change the inevitable, even though I desperately wanted to. 

"We need something. Something to remember each other by." Harry decided, a determined look on his face, and a deep passion in his forest greens as he thought.  
"Well... something like what?" I ran my fingers through my chestnut colored hair, my soft fringe slipping through my fingernails.

"It can't be something small. It has to mean a lot. It has to signify our friendship. It has to be.." Harry trailed off. He looked at me, his forest colored eyes searching my face. Harry needed me to understand... he needed me to just know, without actually saying it and the blush on his olive cheeks proved that.

Harry had a secret. A secret that he waited all this time to tell me. A secret that was embedded in his skin and woven into the fabric of his being... something he didn't think belonged there before this moment and he was afraid... He lips shook with their movements of his soft breaths, because he didn't want to loose me as a best friend over his secret. He was afraid of judgement and staring eyes and whispered truths but Harry was smart. 

Harry knew that I wouldn't leave him, because he would be the one leaving me.

"Harry, I don't understand." I said, looking deep into the green orbs that so desperately needed me to understand. Harry sighed.

"I'll show you." He said. He pulled me into the tightest, and most genuine hug he could muster, squeezing his arms around my body and drowning me in the warmth that his body was willing to give. He burrowed his head into my neck, his nose running along the side of my skin and he breathed me in - as if trying to remember exactly how I smelled in this moment, the shirt I wore, the way my body molded so easily to his. This was a moment, I knew that now. This was different from any intimate moment as friends we've ever shared... this was special and it made my heart crazy inside of my chest.

I could only hold his body just as close to mine, I could only borrow my face into his hair - the strawberry scent filling my senses, making my body feel weightless. I could only run careful fingertips down his spine through his button down shirt, trace his hips when hands got low enough - and every movement felt so natural... felt as if it belonged and nothing but these things, these soft touches, this feeling bubbling up in the pit of my stomach the longer I was close to him should exists.  
It was cruel to give me something I would crave, and then take it away.

Harry pulled away from the hug a little, only far enough so that he could sniffle lightly, his nose a cherry red, so he could lick his plush lips softly - his eyes asking a million questions per second, none of those questions I could answer... so he could push his thin lips against mine, and hold me close all the same.  
That was the moment that changed my life... forever.

Harry was gay, afraid of everyone and everything that related to the topic of his sexuality, but when I didn't pull away he felt safe... he felt at peace for once, like nothing could hurt him... and I felt the same.

I understood. I understood clearly now but as far as understanding myself. I was only more confused. Because this meant that every time we got close, every time my heart fell into the pit of my stomach - he felt the same thing, and neither of us were brave enough to reach for the other.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Harry said once our lips had parted. It was a surreal feeling as the touch lingered on both our lips. It was such an intimate moment - something that I never wanted to stop doing with him... something I was quickly realizing was no longer mine. but the universe couldn't spoil or ruin this specific moment,

but it mixed with fate...and fate had already done that.

Both of us came to the same realization too little too late. 

The figure on the side of the field came into focus, and the stars started to fall from the sky.

"Oh no! How long was she there?" Harry asked frantically, a whole new wave of tears ready to drown him in his fears. I couldn't speak. What could I say? "Lou, what if she tells my mom? She'll never let me see you again! I can't -" He began pulling on the roots of his hair, face red and blotchy, "I always have to go and ruin everything... I'm sorry -"

All the odds had been against me, and I couldn't catch a break. but I had to do something, I had to let him know that this was nothing but my fault - because fate is against me, and I tried to challenge it. So, I hugged Harry to calm him down, held him close to my body and tried to make him feel as protected as possible. He was tall, but in this moment, he was so small.

I suggested that we just walk the other way to exit the field... because there was no way to make my mother understand what I myself couldn't understand.  
I loved Harry. I loved Harry with everything I had, every fiber of my being belonged to him but I didn't know he was gay. I never knew there was a possibility that he could love me back. 

… but I would never see that day. I would never wish to forget the kiss that Harry had left upon my lips. The last piece of him that I could remember him by.

As if the universe hadn't burdened me enough. Ninth grade had come and gone. I had been teased about the kiss. Called terrible names, and shoved into the toilets everyday. My mother had basically disowned me, tucked me into a suit and forced me to church every Sunday, and made it clear that when I turned eighteen, I would be kicked out of the house. She didn't understand that sitting in a building for two hours every Sunday wouldn't change me, it wouldn't "fix me" because I wasn't broken. Being gay isn't a flaw, it isn't a disease, it's the equivalent to being funny, or smart, or energetic. It is apart of me.

That entire year had been hell for me, and even then. I managed to pass with a B average, and successfully move on to sophomore year. It wasn't that, that had truly broken me. It was ninth grades summer. The universe had decided to make sure I knew that I couldn't challenge fate. I couldn't be extraordinary... That summer, the divorce finalized - even though my father had been long gone before then. This left me with no hope of him ever coming back.

My mother had been bringing home various men, keeping her up all hours of the night - just so she could get out of her mind if only for a little while. She was a hypocrite. She did this, but told me I was wrong in the eyes of god for kissing a boy. She was kissing a different men every night, she wasn't any better than I. My sin, is no bigger than hers - still I wanted to please her.

I didn't understand why people ran to sex for security. The temporary feeling it left may get you through the night, but your left to deal with the overbearing regret in the morning. I didn't know from experience, but I knew from watching the roles play out every morning as my mother cried as each man waltzed through the front door and never looked back.

She would scream out, "A soiled son under your my roof, a dishonest husband. What else could you possibly take from me? I am a women of holy faith, and have put my trust in you!"

The words hurt. They hurt so deep down, I had began to build up a series of intricate walls around my heart. I didn't want to get hurt by anyone anymore, so I spent hours building up wall after wall and blocking the world out and talking to the moon.

The true meaning behind building walls though, isn't that we want to keep the world out. We only want to see who will take the time to break them down and see what's truly behind. Unfortunately for me, no one ever tried. Lonely boys living in lonely worlds, where people are too afraid to speak up, and they'd rather kick a person down into the dirt - just because everyone else was doing it.

I was sure I had long ago passed the dirt. I was roaming in the depths of the earth, where the universe had resided and left me to rot with the moon from the whole I had dug, serving as my only light.

That summer had killed me, and a left a replica in my body. A grave merely walking in human skin. A part of me had died. 

That summer, Harry had ran away from home - with no hope of being found.

"I don't approve!" Is the words his mother had only ever spit towards him. He texted me night after night, and with every phone call he sounded less and less alive. He needed me, and I considered running away to Florida so I could be there for him. However, I knew that trying to get from Missouri to Florida would be hard, especially on the nonexistent allowance I received every two weeks.

The scariest thing was, I had given up hope that the lost curly haired boy with forest green eyes would ever be found. My thoughts left me drowning for a long time before I accepted what was probably the truth. 

Harry, was dead.

I sighed, taking a break from my thoughts and staring at the forgiving moon. The tears had dried up, and I couldn't produce any more. I was completely broken, and in remembering left me crumpled; tiny pieces of glass scattered throughout the room, and I couldn't put the pieces of myself back together. My reflection wasn't a person I wanted to be, a person I recognized. So I opted on sleeping instead.

Pushing my fingers to my lips, and touching them so lightly, "I love you Harry." I whispered one last time, "and I'll never forget you."

I closed my eyes with that hope that maybe, I would continue to be okay tomorrow... and the love from some higher power would pull me through the day - even if they had to drag me along the concrete to get me by, that would hurt less than this.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic means the entire world to me, because I wrote it at a time when I still vulnerable too my own sexuality. It's undergone many drafts, re-writes and I've thought of scraping it so many times because I felt no one would like it. but I'm posting this for me, reflecting on a time when I had too many thoughts to keep up with.
> 
> I loved you enjoyed this fic, and maybe got something out of it?
> 
> Again, you can find me:  
> Tumblr: sweetlittlelwt  
> Twitter: sweetlittlelwt  
> One Direction Amino: sweetlittlelwt


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